In days of old,
when midwinter nights were cold
and parties were really cheesy,
I set out straight, full throttle
- having cleaned up my plate -
and headed straight for the boozer.
The party scene beckoned,
no-one needed ask a second
time, and I rolled up with a full bottle.
Going home again
was fraught with pain
if the ice caught me out,
and from my haze I was duly awakened.
Now it's a lot quieter -
and although not a dieter -
I've brought down my boozing
due to driving.
It's now me an the Missus,
that share the kisses
when Big Ben chimes to its twelfth.
We stand watching the fireworks
on the common, and turn for home and bed,
where our cats patrol the premises
with secretive stealth!
Have a good one, best for the New Year
and hope it's better than the 20-twelfth!